


Dessert First

by stfustucky (iwillpaintasongforlou)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Geralt is not a patient man, Geralt is still a Witcher, Jaskier is a teasing little shit, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Rough Sex, Sexting, Table Sex, Teasing, porn with just a sprinkle of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24778264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillpaintasongforlou/pseuds/stfustucky
Summary: “You drive me up the walls, you know that?” Geralt murmured against Jaskier’s lips, his throat, the curve of his neck into his shoulder where he bit down hard enough to bruise. “You can’t just send pictures like that. I mean, you can, and I want you to, all the fucking time, whenever you want to, but gods has it been a long night without you.”Jaskier texts Geralt a photo of him enjoying himself in their bed while his witcher is off on a hunt. It's all fun and games until he gets home from his gig at the bar that night and finds a very impatient Geralt waiting to get his payback...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 496





	Dessert First

**Author's Note:**

> An old drabble originally written for another pairing and retrofitted for Geraskier. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to my lovely eyesofshinigami for the beta <3

Geralt couldn’t say no to that man, even if saying yes to Jaskier was going to be the death of him. He couldn’t deny him a thing. Not a kiss, not his time, not the attention that he always craved, little showboat that he was. Whatever Jaskier wanted, Geralt couldn’t help but give it to him. It was a character flaw, almost definitely, but Geralt had always been a creature of addiction and Jaskier’s smile was habit-forming like nothing you could believe.

So when Jaskier texted Geralt around sometime in the evening, not long after Geralt had gotten himself cleaned up from his wyvern hunt upstate, and asked if it was alright to send Geralt a picture, Geralt was doubly inclined to give an immediate and resounding yes. First of all because it was something Jaskier wanted, and second of all because it was something  _ Geralt _ wanted. Regardless of how long the two had been together, Geralt never got tired of looking at the gorgeous man.

When the picture came in, Geralt wasn’t sure whether he’d made the worst decision of his life or the best.

It was Jaskier, on his side in their bed, naked as the day he was born. He had his hand wrapped around his hard cock, a smear of precome down the length there as evidence that he’d been stroking it. His other hand was at his nipple, mid-tweak, the little nub pink and alert. Just below the swell of Jaskier’s ass, almost hidden by the camera angle, Geralt could just make out the glittery fuschia base of Jaskier’s most beloved --and girthiest-- dildo shoved deep into his greedy little hole.

2% of Geralt’s brain was wondering how Jaskier had even taken the photo-- did they own a tripod? Had Jaskier enlisted someone’s help? Gods that thought made him want to growl-- and the other 98% was just offline completely. Seeing Jaskier naked tended to have that effect on Geralt. The caption, however, made it just that much worse. 

**(Jaskier, 8:52 AM)** _Took this pic this morning when I woke up in our bed… alone… because someone was off on a hunt and wasn’t there to take care of me [angel emoji] Have a nice day babe, I’ll be home after my gig <3_

Geralt had never been more viscerally aware of the fact that he should spend less time out on contracts and more time in bed with Jaskier. The idea that he’d been away from Jaskier for no goddamn reason, while Jaskier was over there touching himself like he had no one to do it for him… A sudden and irrational hatred for Jaskier’s own hands rose up hot and ugly in his stomach, simply because they’d gotten the chance to touch Jaskier while Geralt had missed his chance.

He was gonna have to fix that.

Not for hours and hours, though. Jaskier had already been gone the entire day, the bed made --and all the evidence of his mischief cleaned up, apparently-- by the time Geralt stumbled into it. He had a regular gig providing music at a local bar that had a last call at 2 AM, which meant he wouldn’t be coming back until at least 2:30.

Five whole hours for Geralt to stew. To suffer. To imagine Jaskier’s soft hands running over his skin, playing with himself, dipping inside where it was so nice and wet and warm. He wondered if Jaskier had made himself come. Probably not, since he was a fan of only coming when he was with Geralt, but technically there wasn’t a rule about it, so… anything was possible.

He was in the kitchen when Jaskier finally did come home, five torturous hours later. Jaskier came into the apartment and toed his shoes off at the door with a cursory, “Hey babe, I’m home!” He dropped his guitar case on the bench and then started scanning for Geralt, a grin spreading slowly across his face as he found him at the stove finishing up a stir-fry. “Aww, did you cook for me? You’re so sweet. God, I’m starving--”

“So am I, you little shit,” Geralt huffed, flicking off the burner and slamming the frying pan onto a cool burner so he could focus on more important things, like ravaging Jaskier.

He’s on Jaskier before he has a chance to register Geralt’s advance, his lips still curled into a soft and unsuspecting smile when Geralt crushes them against his own. He’s instantly yielding though, probably more from shock than anything else, his hands coming to rest on Geralt’s biceps as he starts to kiss back. “Geez, Geralt, what are you--”

“You drive me up the walls, you know that?” Geralt murmured against Jaskier’s lips, his throat, the curve of his neck into his shoulder where he bit down hard enough to bruise. “You can’t just  _ send _ pictures like that. I mean, you can, and I want you to, all the fucking time, whenever you want to, but gods has it been a long night without you.”

Geralt had worked open the fly of Jaskier’s jeans and given his cock a cursory rub before moving his hands to slide down the back of Jaskier’s briefs. Jaskier pushed back a little into the touch. “You liked that, hmm?”

“I fucking  _ loved _ it, except for the fact that I couldn’t reach through the screen and touch you,” Geralt growled, spreading Jaskier’s ass with his hands and rubbing his fingertips across his hole within the confines of his clothing. It was still a little slick, even if Geralt was disappointed to find it empty instead of plugged and ready for him like he’d been hoping. “Came home wet for me, little lark?”

Rather than answering that, Jaskier pressed his lips to the corner of Geralt’s mouth in a faint, gentle kiss. “I knew you’d enjoy that picture. Wanted you thinking about me. That way when I came home you’d be ready to take me to bed and make love to me.”

“Tempting,” Geralt hummed, pushing his hands downward suddenly to force Jaskier’s clothing down around his thighs. “Or, I could just fuck you right here, since I’ve been hard for you  _ all goddamn day _ and I don’t intend to spend another second without my hands on you.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide as saucers right before Geralt half pushed, half-dragged him across the room to the kitchen table and lifted him to drop his ass on the edge of the table. “Holy fuck,” he gasped out, pupils dilated as he watched Geralt as if expecting the act to drop, but he didn’t struggle as Geralt yanked his jeans and underwear the rest of the way off. “You’re-- are you--”

“Gonna lay you out on this table and have you like dessert before dinner?” Geralt said lowly, kissing Jaskier once more before putting a hand in the center of Jaskier’s chest and pushing, knocking him backwards to slump helplessly against the table with a moan. He wrapped his hands behind Jaskier’s knees and tugged, then, until Jaskier’s ass was hanging over the edge of the table and the boy had to bring his knees up to brace his feet on the edge of the table for balance. “Yeah, don’t mind if I do.”

He had the nerve, after sending a picture like that and  _ knowing _ the effect it would have on Geralt, to try to close his thighs shyly now that he was before him. Geralt was having none of that. He slipped his hands into the space between Jaskier’s slender thighs and pried them apart, exposing all of Jaskier’s most vulnerable places to Geralt just the way he liked. His hardening cock, the perfectly rounded curvature of his ass, the gentle fluttering of Jaskier’s hole as Geralt blew a stream of cool air over it just to be cruel.

“Geralt, I--” Jaskier began, but Geralt didn’t listen. He dropped into one of the chairs and dug into his feast, licking a stripe across Jaskier’s hole with the flat of his tongue. He tasted like a long day and lube and  _ Jaskier, _ and Geralt didn’t care. He did it again, gentler this time, teasing, then pressed his tongue into Jaskier’s hole like he was intending to fuck him with it.

Jaskier was jerking above Geralt, his thighs still trying to close around Geralt’s head, and he forced them open wider. He could tell by the way his fingers dug into the soft, pale flesh of Jaskier’s thighs that there would be bruises there later, perfect finger prints to show where Geralt had been to cruel in his devotion. He’d feel bad about the bruises later, would kiss each little one and apologize to Jaskier for them.

Not now, though. Right now, Geralt couldn’t be arsed to care. If Jaskier wanted him to stop he knew what word to say, and short of that, Geralt was going to take what he wanted.

He didn’t shoo Jaskier’s hand away when it tangled in his hair and started yanking, enjoying the sharp little lances of pain in his scalp every time Jaskier moaned. That just meant he was doing his job right. If Jaskier wasn’t losing control, he wasn’t falling apart, and if he wasn’t falling apart then Geralt wasn’t doing enough to deserve him.

He worked two fingers into Jaskier’s hole, not as loose as he would have been twelve hours ago when he’d taken that picture, but still slick enough that he could take Geralt’s digits inside with only a little struggle. Geralt rose from his seat and adjusted his angle, sucking the head of Jaskier’s cock into his mouth just as he crooked his fingers inside of Jaskier and pressed cruelly into his prostate.

Jaskier cried out and arched his back up off the table, bowed and beautiful as his hands slid from Geralt’s hair to smack against the table emphatically. “Fu-uuuuck,” he moaned, his next inhale jagged and frantic. “Gonna come, Geralt, gonna come, please, can I--?”

The broken little mewl he gave when Jaskier withdrew his fingers and his mouth made a small, slightly sadistic corner of Geralt’s mind very pleased. “No, I don’t think you can,” he answered Jaskier’s plea. “You were so mean to me today, it’s only fair I be a little mean back.”

“It was supposed to be a nice gesture,” Jaskier gasped.

“Don’t lie, Jask,” Geralt hummed, kissing the inside of Jaskier’s knee tenderly. “We both know you’re trying to ruin me. And  _ god _ am I willing to let you.” He backed away then, looking Jaskier over keenly to memorize the sight of him. He looked a little ridiculous, spread on his back on the kitchen table with nothing but a tee shirt on --Geralt’s tee shirt, as a matter of fact-- and spit and leftover lube making his hole shiny and wet. “Stay there,” he said firmly. “Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be right back.”

He got a tiny noise of assent in answer before he turned on his heel and made his way quickly to the bedroom to fetch the bottle of lube. Impatient as he was, he was unwilling to actually hurt Jaskier in his haste. He shed his own clothes as he went, leaving a trail of shirt and pants and boxers between the two rooms so that he was bare by the time he returned to the kitchen--

\--only to find Jaskier not on his back like Geralt had left him, but rather on the floor with his feet spread apart, leaning forward with one hand on the table and one hand pressing greedy fingers into his own hole.

Geralt closed the distance quickly and brushed Jaskier’s hand aside, quickly replacing it with a sharp crack of his palm against the meat of Jaskier’s ass. Jaskier howled and jerked away from the impact but Geralt had him by the hips, pushing him forward until he was bending Jaskier over the table with a hand at the back of his neck and the other already smoothing over the red blossom of pain on Jaskier’s skin.

“You’re such a brat sometimes,” Geralt huffed with exasperation, releasing his hold on Jaskier’s neck temporarily so he could open the lube and slick up his length. Jaskier was --probably-- smart enough to know better than to move from where Geralt put him again. He did little more than tremble as Geralt started to push into him, coming up onto his toes with the effort to stay on his feet, the table just slightly too high for him to stand comfortably while bent over it. “You know exactly what you’re doing,” Geralt breathed as he pushed in slowly, the force pushing the front of Jaskier’s tender thighs against the harsh edge of the table, his cock trapped between the unforgiving surface and Jaskier’s own stomach. Geralt smoothed his hands over every part of Jaskier he could reach, making up for all the touches he’d missed out on that morning. “That’s what does it for me, you know. The fact that you’re clever enough to know you’re torturing me and brave enough to do it anyway. You drive me crazy, Jaskier Pankratz. Maybe that’s why I’m crazy about you.”

When he starts fucking Jaskier it isn’t particularly gentle, and Jaskier doesn’t seem to mind a lick. His thighs are getting banged into the edge of the table over and over again, his toes scrabbling for purchase on the floor, and he keeps trying to push up off the table with his hands only to be pushed back down again by Geralt. Throughout it all he’s still moaning, mouth dropped open and tears dampening his lashes as Geralt takes out the frustrations of the day on him.

After a whole evening of wanting Geralt expected to have a short fuse, but to his surprise it was Jaskier who cracked first, inhaling sharply before letting out a stream of frantic chatter. “Holy shit, Geralt, I’m close, touch me, I’m gonna come--”

And Geralt backed off the pace, abruptly changing his thrusts to something slower and infinitely shallower, making Jaskier howl with frustration. “What, like I’m supposed to be sweet to you after the hell you gave me today?” Geralt grunted, sounding amused. “If you wanted me sweet, you should have thought twice before you teased me.”

“You’re such a prick,” Jaskier groaned, trying to fuck himself back. “I’m sorry, okay? You’ve made your point, I’m a tease and I know it, just-- come  _ on, _ I want to  _ come.” _

Never let it be said that Geralt wasn’t a merciful man, because he pulled back then and gave Jaskier an ounce of the power he was struggling to take from Geralt. He sat in a kitchen chair and patted his lap resolutely as Jaskier looked over his shoulder in confusion. “Then work for it, songbird,” he said simply.

Jaskier was backing up and sitting on Geralt’s cock in a hot second, his toned --if a little abused at the moment-- thighs working to move him up and down on Geralt’s lap. Geralt held onto Jaskier’s hip and let him do it, let him wiggle and rise and fall and writhe at will as he chased his release. He smoothed his palms across Jaskier’s back as he worked, drunk on the feel of him working Geralt’s cock, desperate for more as heat pooled in his stomach.

“Make me come,” he grunted out, squeezing Jaskier’s sensitive skin to make sure he had the man’s attention. “Fuck, make me come inside you like you’ve been begging for all day, then we can talk about yours. Go ahead, my perfect, sweet thing. Show me how good you can be.”

And Jaskier, ever a slut for praise, delivered. He arched his back and rode Geralt’s cock with new purpose, clenching just right around Geralt as he went, covering Geralt’s hands on his waist with his own and lacing their fingers together in a gesture so bizarrely, sweetly intimate in such a desperate encounter that Geralt was leaning in and biting into the meat of Jaskier’s shoulderblade as he came somewhere deep inside of Jaskier. 

To his credit, Jaskier tried to keep going as Geralt rode out his orgasm, but Geralt was too busy clutching Jaskier to him to allow for that. He ground into Jaskier’s tight heat instead, like he was trying to fuck right through him. Jaskier was murmuring something, probably something sweet, and Geralt couldn’t hear a damn word for a good long minute.

When he did come back around, though, Geralt pulled Jaskier back against his chest as he leaned back in the chair, letting the boy relax against him as Geralt reached around and gave the first proper attention to Jaskier’s cock since his shenanigans this morning. He could feel Jaskier’s back tensing as Geralt stroked him firmly, his whole body giving little twitches like the pleasure was being dragged forcefully out of him, his hole still squeezing and fluttering around Geralt’s softening cock in the kind of distant pain that wasn’t really pain at all. 

“Geralt, I’m gonna come,” Jaskier announced for the third time that evening, sounding strung out and desperate even as he steadfastly refused to break down and beg outright. “I wanna come. Cmon, I need it.”

He needn’t have worried, because Geralt was hard pressed to deny Jaskier anything even on the best of days, and he’d had enough of saying no for tonight. “Yeah, I know, go ahead and come for me,” he murmured into Jaskier’s skin, kissing him tenderly. “Give it up for me, Jask.”

And then Jaskier was coming in his hand, painting Geralt’s knuckles and his own stomach and the kitchen floor between his spread legs with come. “Oh thank fucking god,” Jaskier groaned, bucking up into Geralt’s grip, fingernails scrabbling at Geralt’s forearms. “Holy-- thank you, fuck, you’re so good to me.”

It was just stupid afterglow babble, probably, but the praise still lit Geralt up from the inside. “I try my best,” he hummed as he released Jaskier’s cock and pulled the man off of his own, delighting at the mess that squeezed from his hole as Jaskier tried to stand on shaky legs. Geralt’s come dripped to the floor and joined Jaskier’s, an obscene bit of abstract art on the tile.

“I think we may have made a bit of a mess, love,” Jaskier remarked, following Geralt’s gaze.

“Your fault,” Geralt couldn’t help reminding him one last time.

“Yeah, yeah. Dinner on the couch, then?”

“Go clean yourself up and get settled. I’ll bring you a plate.”

“Ah yes,  _ that’s _ why I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Myself and some other cool cats and kittens have started an 18+ Geraskier writer's group on discord to do sprints, bounce ideas, beta, and encourage each other. If that sounds like something you'd be into, let me know!
> 
> stfustucky | tumblr


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